Beagle Love Quotes & Sayings

If a man loved me, I would have talked myself into loving him, and I would have loved him very deeply after a while. — Peter S. Beagle

- and you are truly human now. You can love, and fear, and forbid things to be what they are, and overact. — Peter S. Beagle

I am no king, and I am no lord,
And I am no soldier at-arms," said he.
"I'm none but a harper, and a very poor harper,
That am come hither to wed with ye."
"If you were a lord, you should be my lord,
And the same if you were a thief," said she.
"And if you are a harper, you shall be my harper,
For it makes no matter to me, to me,
For it makes no matter to me."
"But what if it prove that I am no harper?
That I lied for your love most monstrously?"
"Why, then I'll teach you to play and sing,
For I dearly love a good harp," said she. — Peter S. Beagle

I think love is stronger than habits or circumstances. I think it is possible to keep yourself for someone for a long time and still remember why you were waiting when she comes at last. — Peter S. Beagle

I love whom I love. — Peter S. Beagle

Song of elli (old age)
What is plucked will grow again,
What is slain lives on,
What is stolen will remain
What is gone is gone ...
What is sea-born dies on land,
Soft is trod upon.
What is given burns the hand -
What is gone is gone ...
Here is there, and high is low;
All may be undone.
What is true, no two men know -
What is gone is gone ...
Who has choices need not choose.
We must, who have none.
We can love but what we lose -
What is gone is gone. — Peter S. Beagle

If he had even blinked, she would have been gone; but he did not blink, and he held her, as he had learned to hold griffins and chimeras motionless with his steady gaze. Her bare feet wounded him deeper than any tusk or riving talon ever had, but he was a true hero. — Peter S. Beagle

But what I thought, and what I still think, and always will, is that she saw me. Nobody else has ever seen me - me, Jenny Gluckstein - like that. Not my parents, not Julian, not even Meena. Love is one thing - recognition is something else. — Peter S. Beagle

But the Lady Amalthea and Prince Lir walked and spoke and sang together as blithely as though King Haggard's castle had become a green wood, wild and shadowy with spring. They climbed the crooked towers like hills, picnicked in stone meadows under a stone sky, and splashed up and down stairways that had softened and quickened into streams. — Peter S. Beagle

Her face was a stranger's face, which was as it should be. Love each other from the day we are born to the day we die, we are still strangers every minute, and nobody should forget that, even though we have to. — Peter S. Beagle

Love was generous precisely because it could never be immortal. — Peter S. Beagle

In my village, one of our priests says that love between men is a great sin- the other argues that nothing at all is sinful except weak ale, overdone meat, and building a fire in any way but his. — Peter S. Beagle

You can love, and fear, and forbid things to be what they are, and overact. Let it end here then, let the quest end. Is the world any the worse for losing the unicorns, and would it be any better if they were running free again? One good woman more in the world is worth every single unicorn gone. Let it end. Marry the prince and live happily ever after. The — Peter S. Beagle

Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid of anything. Whatever you have been, you are mine now. I can hold you. — Peter S. Beagle

Wonder and love and great sorrow shook Schmendrick the Magician then, and came together inside him and filled him, filled him until he felt himself brimming and flowing with something that was none of these. He did not believe it, but it came to him anyway, as it had touched him twice before and left him more barren than he had been. This time, there was too much of it for him to hold; it spilled through his fingers and toes, welled up equally in his eyes and his hair and the hollows of his shoulders. There was too much to hold - too much ever to use; and still he found himself weeping with the pain of his impossible greed. He thought, or said, or sang, I did not know that I was so empty, to be so full. — Peter S. Beagle

There's a line in the Bible about perfect love casting out fear. That I don't know about, but orneriness will do it every time. — Peter S. Beagle

How terrible to be forgotten by the god that made you, even if you're just a room. How could you love something that could do that anytime? — Peter S. Beagle

What happened instead was that the tree fell in love with him and began to murmur fondly of the joy to be found in the eternal embrace of a red oak. "Always, always," it sighed, "faithful beyond any man's deserving. I will keep the color of your eyes when no other in the world remembers your name. There is no immortality but a tree's love. — Peter S. Beagle

You pile of stones, you waste, you desolation, I'll stuff you with misery till it comes out of your eyes. I'll change your heart into green grass, and all you love into a sheep. I'll turn you into a bad poet with dreams. — Peter S. Beagle

They know these mornings well and love them desperately because they cannot last - these people who know that nothing lasts. — Peter S. Beagle

I am a black stone, the size of a kitchen stove. They wash me in the stream every summer and sing over me. I am skulls and cocks, spring rain and the blood of the bull. Virgins lie with strangers in my name, the young priests throw pieces of themselves at my stone feet. I am white corn, and the wind in the corn, and the earth whereof the corn stands up, and the blind worms rolled in an oozy ball of love at the corn's roots. I am rut and flood and honeybees. — Peter S. Beagle

Sure, she loves him. But they've got two different ideas of love. He wants to dance with her on a terrace with a full moon and a thirty-six-piece orchestra; he wants to go singing through storms with her, like Gene Kelly. She knows about thirty-six-piece orchestras. You have to feed them, and then there's nothing left for the children. — Peter S. Beagle

When your life is all taking, what need to learn courtship? Carcharos's passion for Jassi Belnarak deepened and darkened with every sleepless night, but it did not keep him from understanding that neither beneficence nor meek wistfulness would win her honestly. Power would have to do, after all; and I think that for the only time in that bad life, Carcharos may truly have regretted the necessity of forcing his will on another person. The moment can't have lasted long, but I think further that it may have been the closest Carcharos ever came to knowing love. — Peter S. Beagle

Ah, love may be strong, but a habit is stronger,
And I knew when I loved by the way I behaved. — Peter S. Beagle

I love you," Laura said hopelessly. "I'd love you if you were afraid of everything in the world. — Peter S. Beagle

I love you, more, I think, than I know, but our kind of love isn't a sword. It's a light. Not a fire. A small light, just bright enough to read love letters by and keep the animals at a growling distance. In time it will go out. All lights go out. So do all fires, if it's any comfort. Love me, and look at me, and remember me, as I'll remember you. — Peter S. Beagle

Marveling at his own boldness, he said softly, I would enter your sleep if I could, and guard you there, and slay the thing that hounds you, as I would if it had the courage to face me in fair daylight. But I cannot come in unless you dream of me. — Peter S. Beagle

When I was eighteen or twenty, I knew everything except what I wanted. I knew all about people, and poetry, and love, and music, and politics, and baseball, and history, and I played pretty good jazz piano. And then I went traveling, because I felt that I might have missed something and it would be a good idea to learn it before I got my master's degree. (...) And the older I grew, and the farther I traveled, the younger I grew and the less I knew. I could feel it happening to me. I could actually walk down a dirty street and feel all my wisdom slipping away from me, all the things I wrote term papers about. — Peter S. Beagle

He really would have done all that for her, you see, and done it believing he'd burn in hell forever for doing it. He hadn't done it, and wouldn't had made her his anyway, but you see why he'd have figured it did. Or maybe I saw it anyway, at the time. He was a maniac and a monster, but people don't love like that anymore. Or maybe it's only the maniacs and monsters who do. I don't know. — Peter S. Beagle

All lives are composed of two basic elements," the squirrel said, "purpose and poetry. By being ourselves, squirrel and raven, we fulfill the first requirement, you in flight and I in my tree. But there is poetry in the meanest of lives, and if we leave it unsought we leave ourselves unrealized. A life without food, without shelter, without love, a life lived in the rain - this is nothing beside a life without poetry. — Peter S. Beagle

I love whom I love," Prince Lir repeated firmly. "You have no power over anything that matters. — Peter S. Beagle

I had a good time that night, too," Michael said, "but I kept thinking, This is forever. This is forever. You will have this good time again and again, a million times over, until it will be like a play in which you and Laura and a few fugitive lives sit around an imaginary fire and talk and sing songs and love each other and sometimes throw imaginary brands at the eyes blinking beyond the circle of imaginary firelight. And then I thought - and this is where I sounded just like a real philosopher - And even when you admit that you know every line in the play and every song that will be sung, even when you know that this evening spent with friends is pleasant and joyful because you remember it as pleasant and joyful and wouldn't change it for the world, even when you know that anything you feel for these good friends has no more reality than a dream faithfully remembered every night for a thousand years - even then it goes on. Even then it has just begun. — Peter S. Beagle

The woman I loved died because I did not love her enough - what greater sin is there than that?
(Uncle Chaim and Aunt Fifke and the Angel) — Peter S. Beagle

She came very close, and looking into my eyes, she said, "My Jenny," and then she bent her head and kissed me - here, on the left-hand corner of my mouth. And nobody knows better than I that I couldn't have felt anything, because Tamsin was a ghost - but nobody but me knows what I felt. And I'll always know. — Peter S. Beagle